


An Alternative View

by TheMeaningofHaste



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMeaningofHaste/pseuds/TheMeaningofHaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the gutter. That’s where people like him belonged wasn’t it? People who lied. People who stole. People who killed. People who felt no remorse for any of it. People like Sebastian Moran."</p><p>When Jim Moriarty brought Sebastian into his life neither of them knew how deep their bond would become. From their first meeting, to the first organized crime Sebastian is involved in nothing is ever simple.</p><p>This is Jim and Sebastian's side to the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

_“You posses every trait that I lack, by coincidence or by design,_

_You’re always ahead of the pack while I drag behind.” Drag, Placebo._

                In the gutter. That’s where people like him belonged wasn’t it? People who lied. People who stole. People who killed. People who felt no remorse for any of it. People like Sebastian Moran.

                Growing up he had been raised for a life in the underbelly of society. He had a working class, alcoholic, abusive father and an emotionally distant mother who could barely be bothered to get out of bed, let alone stand up for her son. The army had seemed like an easy way out and a sounding board for his aggressive nature. However, Sebastian found himself growing more and more conflicted every time his commanding officer screamed at him. Every time they told him to move faster. Every time he was screamed at and beaten and expected to sit back and quietly ask for another.

                Sniper training had given him some focus. He liked the quiet that went along with a stakeout. The hush of the wind as his watched someone unsuspecting move about in his cross hairs. The rush of adrenaline and power that surged through him just before he pulled the trigger. That emotional calm that came over him briefly every time he knew he made the kill. Spending his free time practicing in the shooting range or on homemade targets, he moved through the ranks quickly. His skill far outweighed his antisocial personality. Her Majesty’s Army, home to one of the greatest snipers the world had ever seen, coupled with a distinct lack of a soul.

                He had been honorably discharged after a bit of blackmailing came to light. He had always wanted a way out but never had a chance, short of killing one of his comrades. Who would want to go to jail over something as petty as that? No, Sebastian bided his time and finally found his chance when he walked in on his Captain engaged in ‘extracurricular’ activities with a young - and very male - cadet. His Captain, after a light convincing from Sebastian, recommended his retirement from the Royal Army permanently.

                Unwilling to return to a life of barely scraping by, Sebastian returned to his home in London, now vacant after his mother’s death and his father’s ‘accident’. He played cards and gambled in some of the more prestigious gentleman’s clubs in the city and enjoyed a career dominated by swindling wealthy businessmen out of their money. Most of the men he played with were too drunk or consumed by their extramarital affairs to be focused enough on their game. A condition that went along with his habit of cheating nicely.

                It was during one such session that he would meet the man that would change his life.

~~~

                It was a typical drizzling Tuesday evening in London when Sebastian settled down for his evening game of poker. He nodded to the dealer as he swirled his glass of whiskey and leaned back in his plush chair, letting a few ashes from his cigarette fall to the floor. He watched the embers glow briefly before being snuffed out by a slight breeze.  Sebastian made it a point never to drink too much while he was working, it made his job far more difficult that he cared for. Drinking excessively was for his off hours, smoking however could occur wherever with no detrimental effects on his concentration.

                He was distracted watching the dealer pass out cards and debating whether the Parliament Member to his left was having an affair with the lawyer next to him. The answer was often yes. He was startled when he glanced up from his cards to see that they had a newcomer. Sebastian took a moment to take him in, it was always important to know what you were getting into. Besides, most of these idiots wore their weaknesses and tells on their sleeves.

                The man was slim and dressed impeccably well. Westwood? Sebastian nodded slightly, it had to be; the stitching was immaculate and the subtle glint of the tie pin begged to be noticed. It was a dark charcoal in color with a matching tie of light silver. Sebastian found himself suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to reach out and touch the expensive fabric. Snap out of it, he scolded himself as he turned his gaze upwards to look at the man’s face. Light skin led up to his face which was speckled lightly with a 5 o’clock shadow. He had a sharp jaw line, strong brow and the most intense dark brown eyes Sebastian had ever seen. Dark eyes that were currently observing him as well without his knowledge.

                Sebastian looked away quickly and took a sip of his warming beverage. He grimaced; the ice had melted and caused his whiskey to become watered down. When he looked back up at the new mysterious man he found that the man was smiling at him in a way that could be perceived as trying to suppress a chuckle or as one that promised he was later going to eat your family.

                “Alright gentlemen, let’s have an honest game,” the dealer said, breaking the unofficial stalemate that was occurring between Sebastian and the mystery man.

                Taking a drag from his cigarette Sebastian looked at his cards. An excellent deal, as always.

~~~

                Two hours later Sebastian was sitting back at the oak bar nursing a new – celebratory – glass of scotch, his wallet a little heavier than it had been earlier that day. Good, he could use some new shoes, he mused.

                “Lucky night,” came a silky voice from the stool next to him.

                Sebastian fought back a shiver. There was so much in that voice that offered indescribable pain, pleasure, and everything in between. He cleared his throat and found his voice. “Seems like it.” Short and to the point was probably the best idea he decided.

                “Can I buy you a drink?” the man said as he pulled out a silver case of cigarettes and put one between his soft pink lips.

                Soft? What was wrong with him? He was an army man and criminal for Christ sake.  He nodded curtly, not trusting himself to speak any more.

                “Two of your finest scotch, neat,” the man said, signaling to the bartender. “Jim,” he said turning back toward Sebastian.

                Sebastian fought the urge to roll his eyes. No one ever used their real name in this club, was Jim really the best this guy could come up with? “Sebastian,” he replied taking another draw of his own fag.

                “Well then Sebastian,” Jim said, his tongue rolling over his name as though it were a treat. “Could you help a mate out? It seems my lighter has gone dead.” He turned up one corner of his mouth into a fake smile than Sebastian knew would never reach those dark eyes. This man, Jim or whoever he was, was studying him just as close as Sebastian was watching him.

                Without a word Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn silver lighter. The metal had begun to tarnish and the sides were scratched beyond repair, but it had been his mother’s. Even he was sentimental on occasion. As he flicked the flame to life Jim leaned in close, guiding his cigarette into the flame. Sebastian watched unmoving as those impossibly dark eyes came closer, never breaking contact with his even when Jim inhaled, his cheeks hollowing slightly. Sebastian swallowed drily, his hand shaking slightly as he moved to put the lighter away.

                “Thanks,” he whispered as he leaned back, that same mischievous grin still plastered on his face. Before Sebastian could respond the bartender returned with two fresh glasses filled with expensive amber liquid. Jim picked his up with his left hand and slipped up off the bar stool. Sebastian could see that while the man wasn’t anywhere near as tall as him, he held a powerful demeanor. “See you later, Moran.” And with a wink Jim had slipped away, leaving a slightly stunned Sebastian behind.

                He shook his head and downed his drink faster than its price point recommended. He seriously needed to get laid again if a strange man was having this type of effect on him. As he plopped down a few bills to cover his tab he stalled. He had never told Jim his last name.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I’m coming up on Infra- red, there is no running that can hide you, ‘cause I can see in the dark, forget your running I will find you…” Infra-Red, Placebo_

                James Moriarty was not often a man who was amused by the little people in life. Ordinary, all of them. So boring. So predictable. So when the report of one army sniper with a questionable background scaling the ranks came across his desk one day three years ago, he had been surprised at his own flicker of interest. The photo attached had showed a young man – 25 if Jim had to guess- staring defiantly at the camera, icy blue eyes hard and bored. Jim smiled to himself and leaned back against his leather chair. He remembered fondly watching the man grow, earning honors and medals, the bored defiance never leaving him.

                Jim remembered the day that he had heard that young Moran had been travelling in a caravan when it was attacked. A bomb had exploded, sending shrapnel into him. Jim had initially been concerned that the injuries he suffered would detract from the ruggedly handsome charm of his favorite new study. He kept an eye on his surveillance of the soldier as he healed, wondering when his interest in the man would fade. To say that he had nothing to worry about was an understatement. Moran had recovered quickly, obviously bored beyond belief at the idea of being trapped in the hospital bed. As the army doctor removed Morans bandages, Jim zoomed in on his surveillance camera. It was important for a consulting criminal to have eyes on every side of a war after all. The doctor used careful and gentle precision to check over all the wounds, noticing every time Moran involuntarily winced, even before Jim did. Captain Watson, Jim had mused. He would have to remember that name. Maybe set up an ‘accidental’ wire of money into his account.

                Jim took a sip of his tea as he reminisced over seeing Moran’s new face. The rugged appeal was still there, even stronger now actually. The shrapnel had taken out a chunk of muscle on the right side of his chin that had been juxtaposed handsomely by a two day old blonde stubble. A cut ran through his left eyebrow, also guaranteed to scar. Jim smiled drily at the thought. Yes, things had gotten even more interesting.

                Checking his watch Jim stood, setting his mostly empty mug down on the solid oak of his desk. He buttoned his suit jacket and smoothed down his tie and trousers. It was important to look his best if he was going to go collect his new pet.

~~~

                After their, not at all chance, encounter at poker, Jim had been planning just how would be the best way to bring this intriguing man into his life. CCTV cameras had followed Moran’s every move and where they failed his own surveillance was more than adequate.

                He now knew that every Tuesday Moran didn’t have a card game to go to. Every Tuesday he was left alone, trapped on his own, giving his demons a chance to come out and play. The same ones that drove the ex-soldier to turn to the bottle even harder than usual.

                The alcohol did different things to Moran depending on the variety. It truly was a fascinating study. Scotch was reserved for poker games, a place where he wanted to seem of a higher class of society than he really was. Vodka led him to drunken nights spent around the house, cleaning his impressive – and likely highly illegal- gun collection, singing off key to whatever came on the radio. Wine sent him out on the streets, looking for what he called, ‘the perfect snackers’. Last week, Tequila had sent him out to a club where he had picked up a women- brunette, short, unappealing- and shagged her roughly in the darkened alley.

                Jim fought back a light blush at that particular memory. While he had not approved of Moran’s choice in a sexual partner, he had enjoyed watching him. Observing the way that his muscles contracted and moved with his every thrust. The way his mouth never moved, not even to kiss her. The dark and slightly disinterested look in his eyes never leaving, even as he came. Yes, Sebastian made for quite the fascinating study but Jim had had enough of this long distance. Glancing back at his monitor he smiled as Moran rummaged around his flat deciding which liquor he would take solace in today. Ah, Tequila, Jim smirked. It was going to be an interesting night.

~~~

                A dark car pulled to a stop in front of an alley, back lit by two lights that hung next to a faded red door. The thump of a bass was still audible inside of the car, shaking the windows slightly. The door in the back opened and Jim unfolded himself gracefully, sneering at the unsightly colored puddles that littered the pavement. He had followed Sebastian to this unsightly club, observing his every move; watching him consume half a liter of tequila as he got dressed at home before heading out for the night. He had watched the blonde duck into his regular haunt, a small club that was just on the border between run down and hip.

                Jim had watched the video feed on his phone, smirking as Moran downed shot after shot, only pausing briefly for air or a lime wedge. It had gotten particularly interesting when the salt portion of this little ritual had begun being licked off of other people, particularly one young man Sebastian seemed to have set his eye on for the night. He was tall and lanky, dressed in tight jeans and a preppy polo. Experimenting, Jim had thought to himself. Just a young boy looking to check out his options, and judging by the way that Sebastian was sucking salt off of his neck, he had found his chance.

                As his car had silently passed through the darkening streets of London he had kept an eye on the video feed, watching as with each shot Moran became more aggressive in his advances, until their bottle was empty and drinking no longer became part of the evening. They had migrated to a back corner and eventually out the back door, only breaking contact to stumble down the concrete steps and into a shadow.

                For the first time ever Jim had briefly considered if he should be watching what came next. It had been an alarming thought. He had never before felt any concern over invading every inch of someone’s life before. He had frowned, no need to start now.

                Buttoning his overcoat he walked slowly to the entrance of the alley, leaning gracefully against the brick. He carefully lit a smoke and waited patiently for Sebastian to finish his…fun. The two had switched positions and the younger boy was down on his knees, pushing Moran’s bare hips against the wall in a way that should have been painful. Jim took the opportunity to observe how the shadows carved Moran’s face, making every angle harsher. His black t-shirt was form fitting, wrapped tightly across his biceps and pushed up slightly in the front revealing his navel and what appeared to be a shadowing of hair. Jim took another drag, wondering if anyone, or anything, could remove the bored and vacant expression from Sebastian’s face. The boy -19 he guessed, legal, but still too young for Moran- pushed back and retched onto the pavement. Jim grimaced; obviously such a blood alcohol level should not be combined with a first attempt to swallow.

                Sebastian rearranged himself, buttoning his jeans and running a hand through his hair. He briefly considered the social ramifications that went along with leaving a boy alone to drown in his own filth. Sighing he pulled him into a sitting position against the brick and pulled a twenty pound note out of his pocket. He tucked the bill into the boy’s trousers and turned, there, now he was vertical with money for a taxi, whatever happened next was out of his hands.

                He ran another hand through his blonde hair, making a mental note to get a haircut soon. Turning to make his way home he froze. There was a dark silhouette leaning against the wall at the end of the alley. ‘Great, another pervert,’ Sebastian grumbled to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to ignore the chill in the air. He walked forward, pulling himself up to his full height, only an idiot would try anything.

                “I see you’re not picky,” said a voice that Sebastian had to assume belonged to the man loitering twenty meters from him.

                Do not engage the crazies, Sebastian reminded himself. Talking back always led to more harm than good.

                “I personally liked the looks of him over your choice last week though. She was not particularly easy on the eyes.” Smoke wafted away from the man as he spoke with a detached elegance. “Don’t know what you saw in her.” The stranger dropped his cigarette to the ground and shoved himself off the wall.

                “What’s it to you anyways?” Sebastian snapped, not even stopping long enough to realize that this man had obviously been watching him for two full nights.

                “Well I like to only employ those that have good taste,” the man mused.

                Sebastian brushed past the man into the dim light that the open street provided. Turning around he faced his apparent stalker. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

                “Manners are so important in society my dear.” The man stepped out from the shadow he had been lurking in. Moran was shocked to see that he recognized the man; the voice had sounded rather familiar now that he thought about it. Few people had the ability to sound like they were simultaneously making love to you and plotting violent crimes at the same time. “Don’t you remember me?”

                Sebastian nodded jerkily, unsure how this situation would unfold. The man –Jim wasn’t it?- was dressed tonight in a long wool trench coat that swept around him in the light breeze. Under it Sebastian could see the bottom of black trousers, belonging to what was sure to be another extravagant suit. The man exuded grace, confidence and power. “How did you know my last name?” He bit out, remembering the other night.

                “Oh Seb darling I know a lot of things about you. Like I said, it’s a good idea to know as much about your employees as you can.” Jim stepped forward, closing in like a predator stalking its prey.

                “Why do you keep implying that I am, or will be, your employee? You know nothing about me, do you understand? Nothing!” Sebastian pulled his hands out of their pockets and curled them into fists defensively.

                “I am in need of someone who possesses a very special set of skills my pet, and you, are perfect for the job.” Jim began to circle slowly around his target, looking him up and down, soaking in every detail. The rough stubble on his jaw. The small stain on the leg of his trousers from a spill earlier in the night. The tiny hole in Sebastian’s left shoe. Most importantly the strength and defiance that radiated off of him while Jim spoke. “Yes, absolutely perfect.”

                He came to a stop just behind Moran, just out of eyeshot. “The pay is excellent and it involves absolutely nothing legal,” Jim whispered, so close that Sebastian could feel warm breath on his neck. “I could set you up in a new room, much nicer than that dump you call home now. Wouldn’t you like to have a purpose again? Feel a sense of accomplishment for something more than cheating at cards? Have a real target for your rifles?”

                Sebastian shivered involuntarily. “Tell me more.”


	3. Chapter 3

_“I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t, so here’s to drinks in the dark.”_

_Florence + the Machine, Shake It Out_

                “Sebastian darling, have you seen my new Hermes tie?”

                Sebastian rolled his eyes. It had been two weeks since he had agreed to work for James Moriarty and moved into his large flat. Something about ‘keeping an eye on the newbies at all times’, or some crap like that. He knew it was a lie; three new thugs had come and gone in those two weeks without ever setting foot into the building. His theory was that Jim was actually just lonely here alone but too stubborn to admit it to even himself. The blonde untucked himself from his comfortable position on the couch and made his way to Jim’s room.

                “It’s hanging on your tie rack with all of the others boss,” he said rounding the corner. “Ah, jeez boss, warn a guy first!” he cried putting a hand over his eyes.

                His boss, and possible new friend, was rummaging on the floor of the closet, bare arse on full display. “What’s wrong Seb, don’t like what you see?” Jim chuckled as Sebastian turned his back.

                “Just wasn’t ready for a full moon,” the sniper growled. He was not an easily embarrassed man; the army beat any sense of privacy out of you quickly. However, his new employer managed to break every rule or idea that Sebastian held. The dark haired man was shorter than him and lithe but he commanded respect at every turn. His temper was fragile and he had been known to go from calm to ragging in five seconds flat.

                “Ah hah! Here’s the little devil. Now, turn around and face me. I need to discuss with you your newest mission and I refuse to look at your back while I do it.” His voice was commanding and held no tolerance for disobedience. Sebastian turned, clasping his hands behind his back and staring defiantly at a spot on the wall just behind Jim’s head.

                The criminal rolled his eyes and turned back to his wardrobe, pulling out clean pants and trousers. “As you know this is your last real test for me. The parameters are simple. Pick an innocent target in a secure location; you know, school, hospital, government or the likes. Then make the kill from another building at least 200 meters away. Simple.” Jim buttoned his trousers and pulled out a light blue shirt. It was an incredibly rare event to see the man awake and not dressed neatly in a suit that cost more than most people paid in rent.

                 Jim had been putting together these little tests every few days for Sebastian. Each one designed to test his skills or morals, and also just for sheer amusement. Jim often complained that the world was too boring, predictable, and, worst of all; no one was clever enough for him. The criminal finished knotting his tie with expertise, eyes never leaving his sniper. “Now, I have to attend to some… business tonight and likely will not return until tomorrow night. I expect you to have finished your task by then and trust me when I remind you that it would be unpleasant for you should you delay.” He paused as he toed on a pair of shoes. “I trust though that you will approach this chore with the same enthusiasm and dexterity as before.” A small spark seemed to twinkle in his dark eyes at the thought. If the next 24 hours went according to plan he would be bringing Sebastian on as a –subordinate- partner in his future endeavors.

                Sebastian nodded, his mind already beginning to calculate the most challenging locations in a thirty block radius. He had never been one to half ass something and he had no intention of starting to now. “Of course sir.”

                “Wonderful!”Jim clapped his hands together and smiled as he made his way to the thick oak front door. Not even the combined forces of Attila the Hun could break through that thing. Sebastian followed behind him obediently, still wary to try anything around the man. “Be good Sebby,” he said and with a smile and a wink he was out the door.

                Sebastian shook his head as he made his way to his desk. He found his boss’s smile a little terrifying. His face went through the motions but no real emotion ever reached his eyes which remained dark and unfeeling. And then there were those damn nicknames that had started the moment Sebastian had set foot in their flat. Seb, Sebby, Bastian. He grumbled softly to himself as he pressed his computers power button a little too hard. He had never let anyone get away with calling him that shit before but he was clever enough to realize that he had no choice now. The worst part was that he was starting to enjoy the way they sounded in that Irish drawl- not that he would ever admit it.

                A few hours and three cups of tea later Sebastian had landed on Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital. The building itself was secure enough to be acceptable and it was surrounded by buildings. Thanks to a criminally based web of information he was able to choose the ones with the least security, foot traffic and occupancy. He had even been able to hack into the CCTV system along the street and had created a loop that would cover all traces of his presence.

                Grabbing his empty mug he shut down the computer and shuffled into the kitchen. Everything was either a dark granite or sterile stainless steel with a set spot for every item. The flat was kept immaculate and looked as though it had come straight from an interior design book. The only exceptions to Moriarty’s very strict standards were their bedrooms. Sebastian had tried to personalize his with a few objects that he had brought from his old life. Sentiment, his boss would say.

The criminal’s bedroom however, was a more accurate representation of the chaos that ensued inside his mind. Books filled the two cases that framed each side of a king bed that had probably never been made neatly. More tomes were stacked in the corners and on just about every available space. His expensive clothes were flung in the vicinity of his hamper, the only exclusion being his suit jackets. If pressed on the issue Jim would argue that he had a system for everything and could locate anything he needed in seconds. When Jim was out on ‘business’ Sebastian would often come and stand in the doorway just looking to remind himself that his boss was technically human, even when he didn’t act much like it. He never stepped foot inside though, he was confident that the paranoid man had cameras that covered every inch of the flat.

He carefully washed and dried his cup, not wanting a repeat of his first night. He had mistakenly left his mug in the sink only to wake up a few hours later when it crashed into his wall, just narrowly missing his head. Sebastian had jumped up and a fuming Moriarty had promised him that next time, the offending dish would not miss.

With a sigh and a yawn he made it to his bedroom and stripped out of his clothes. He ruffled through his drawers and finally settled on a pair of camouflage pajama pants. Jim’s idea of a joke but they were more comfortable than anything else the soldier owned. He slipped into bed still reveling in the size of it and the feel of the expensive sheets against his back.  He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts of his eccentric employer and the next day’s task and instead focused on the cool fabric beneath his cheek. This new gig definitely had its perks.

~~~

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

The harsh mechanical noise pulled Sebastian from a very pleasant dream and into the real world the next morning. With a violent thump of his fist he silenced the persistent alarm and groaned. Mornings were not his thing. Never the less Sebastian rolled out of bed with a huff and into the bathroom to begin his morning routine.

As he stepped into the hot spray of the shower he tried to get his mind to focus on the demanding day ahead. However his subconscious stubbornly kept sending up flashes from his dream. With a groan he let his head fall back against the wall – granite of course- and submitted to the sensation of the water and the image of eyes so dark they were almost black staring into him.

A few moments were all he needed before he shut the water off and reached for his towel. Just another thing he couldn’t properly enjoy thanks to his army training. As he dried off he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror. His blonde hair was standing on end and had gotten darker thanks to days spent in London instead of under the hot Middle Eastern sun. The scarring across his face had faded lightly but a noticeable chunk was still missing from his jaw and a white line cut through his brow. Other scars littered his chest and arms, all with varying degrees of severity and age. He grimaced at his reflection and made a mental note to acquire weights. While he was still thin and strong he was beginning to lose some of his muscle tone; not acceptable.

Turning his back on the disappointing man in the mirror Sebastian began to pull on his favourite kill clothes. A pair of well worn jeans was paired with a tight black t-shirt and he slipped on the only boots his boss had not immediately discarded. He pulled on a dark blue cap with the word ‘London’ written across it with a stylized flag; the only present his mother had sent him while he was away. Tucking a pair of sunglasses into his pocket, he made his way to the makeshift garage and his weapons collection. Best to get an early start when there was murder to be done.

~~~

Sunglasses on and with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, heavy with the familiar weight of a rifle, Sebastian exited the Underground and made his way down the street to Bart’s. Jim had insisted on purchasing him some expensive, name brand gym bag, because no sniper of his was going to be seen carrying around something that ‘looked like its only use would be scooping up dog shit’. Sebastian had insisted that the expensive bag was overkill but shut up quickly when he saw there was no way to win that battle.

He weaved through the light traffic around that hospital and made his way to the old office building across the street. He gave a curt nod to the secretary and made his way up the stairs, slipping a hand into his pocket and activating the loop on the security cameras. He wasn’t a professional like his boss but he could hack into just about any system with the best of them. The soldier exited onto the fifth floor and made his way to office 517 which records shown him to have been unoccupied for over a month. He slipped on a pair of leather gloves and within 20 seconds the lock was picked and the door swung open.

The office was empty with only four bare desks as a reminder of what it once had been. He lifted one of the desks and brought it over towards to window, making a mental note of its original location and to avoid drag marks. With ease he unloaded his rifles case, an army L129A1 Sharpshooter rifle, perfect for medium distances; a classic. Assembly was quick and only minutes after entering the room he was making final adjustments on the sight. It was a drizzly and rainy day in London, not ideal conditions but he had worked in much worse.

He maneuvered the scope across, searching for the perfect victim. Just has he had landed on a middle aged man in the IT department his phone buzzed to life in his pocket. He growled as he reached for it, 30 seconds later and it could have compromised his shot.

_Don’t fuck it up Colonel- JM_

With a roll of his eyes Sebastian punched in a quick response accusing Jim of being the cause if he should fail and flipped the vibrate off. Returning his gaze to the man typing at his desk the sniper made the necessary calculations for wind speed and tightened his finger around the trigger. Deep breath and pull. The shot was perfect and through his scope Sebastian watched for a moment as the woman in the next desk screamed as she was covered in a spray of blood and brain. He closed his eyes for a moment with a grin, focusing on the amazing sense of calm that always washed over him after a perfectly executed kill.

A few seconds was all he got before he broke down his gun and returned it gently to its case. The case was wrapped in a towel and tucked back into the gym bag amid a pair of trainers and gym shorts that had never been worn. It was important to have camouflage just in case. The room was returned to its previous state of disuse and only minutes after he had arrived he was out the door, gloves tucked back into his pocket and shades back on.

As he made his way out of the back exit and into the alley he ended the security camera feed and slipped back into the chaos of the streets. As he texted his boss that the job had been executed perfectly he missed seeing a tall man with a long black coat stroll up to the hospital, twirling a riding crop.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_“I was never faithful and I was never one to trust, borderlining schizo and_

_guaranteed to cause a fuss.” Black Eyed. Placebo_

A month had passed since Sebastian had finished his last test for his boss and they found themselves settling into a routine. Or at least what passes for one when you live with a consulting criminal. Moriarty had begun bringing him in on more operations, sometimes for his opinions but more often for his brawn. Jim Moriarty was an expert at psychological warfare but detested having to do the more physical aspects that his interrogations sometimes required.

The ex-soldier had also been assigned the more domestic details of their everyday lives. Most importantly he was in charge of making sure his boss ate. Jim was incredibly picky when it came to meals and often too distracted to remember he needed to eat. On slower days Sebastian would go out to the shops, leaving Jim at home to putter around with a new toy he had invented or go make his rounds around the criminal outposts he maintained.

Today was one of those slower days and Sebastian found himself preparing dinner in a rare Jim-free apartment. With no one to hover over him and question every ingredient choice he made, he set to work making bell peppers stuffed with chorizo. He hummed to himself and worked on finishing off a bottle of wine, trying to ignore that voice in his head that kept suggesting he had become a house wife.

Just as his ipod switched songs the front door came flying open and crashed against the wall. Sebastian whipped around, immediately grabbing the chef’s knife he had been using, preparing himself for whatever was about to happen. One very angry James Moriarty came stalking through the door which was slammed closed behind him. His boss’s hair was mussed in the back and his tie was slightly askew, not good signs on the normally obsessively neat man. Glancing at the clock Sebastian grimaced. Jim was home twenty minutes early from his twice weekly ‘stress release’.

“Fucking ruining everything!” Jim yelled, giving a hostile kick the chair in front of him. “ Fucking Holmes is meddling with my system, making my life more bloody difficult!”

Sebastian sighed and turned the kettle on behind him. Little could calm Jim down from one of his tantrums, but as far as he was concerned, tea couldn’t hurt.

“I was half way through with Jeremy when I got a call from fucking Detective Sanders. What’s so important you ask that Sanders had to fucking call me now?” Jim continued to pace around the room, screaming and ranting, kicking or throwing whatever offending objects crossed his path, choosing to ignore that no one had actually asked. “It seems that this wanker Holmes is compromising his position we created in the force. Saint Holmes can tell every bloody detail about every bloody idiot he meets and fucking Sanders doesn’t feel safe leaking information anymore!

For the last month everything I do gets connected to that asshole! Cases are no longer going un-noticed or unsolved anymore. That bastard solves even the most complex operation in less time than it took to plan! It’s nearly impossible to fucking frame someone now. As if his damn brother wasn’t enough work running the fucking government, now baby brother is running around London playing detective!”

Jim came to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen, his chest heaving and eyes wild. Sebastian had never seen him quite this angry and unhinged before. Unsure what to say he brought forward the cup of tea that had just finished brewing, careful to make sure the handle was pointing in the proper direction. “Err, tea boss?”

In a flash of movement the cup was hurled into Sebastian’s face, steaming liquid and all. “No I don’t want your fucking tea!”

“Fuck boss!” Sebastian growled, ripping off his shirt trying to get the scalding liquid away from his skin as fast as possible. “I had just fucking bought this shirt too!” He rubbed the stained fabric over his face, trying to dry off.

“Oh poor Bastian and his poor fucking shirt.” Jim stalked towards him, his voice suddenly quiet and even. Another bad sign. “Here I was finally getting my cock sucked when I get this awful fucking news but excuse me, I forgot all about you and your fucking shirt!”

His sentence was punctuated by an undercut to Sebastian’s stomach. With another curse the sniper had had enough. He twisted Jim’s arm behind his back and held him tightly against him. “Calm the fuck down!”

His boss struggled to get away but at six foot four Sebastian had a good seven inches of height on his side. The sniper had been hired in part for his strength after all. After a minute of struggling Jim finally began to calm, grumbling to himself but visibly more relaxed. Sebastian waited a few more seconds before releasing his boss, no longer concerned about further injury to himself or their possessions. “Better?”

Instead of answering, the shorter man turned to face him, dark hair sticking up wildly, pupils dilated and his mouth fixed in a smirk. “Much,” he purred, taking a step to close the gap between them. Sebastian took a wary step backwards, wincing when the edge of the counter ran into his lower back.

Before he could question it or move away, Jim closed the gap between them completely and captured Sebastian’s lips in a brutal kiss. Jim’s hand snaked up to grab a fist full of blonde hair, holding him in place as he nipped at his lower lip, asking for entry. For a moment Sebastian forgot he was kissing his boss and let himself become absorbed in the sensations.

 Their lips were mashed together, tongues fighting for dominance. The kiss was brutal and passionate; both men trying to control it, neither willing to give up. Acting on their own accord, Sebastian’s arms wrapped around Jim’s waist pulling him closer, needing more contact. Jim moaned at the friction of it, thrusting his erection against the sniper’s hip.

The movement was enough to bring Sebastian back to his senses and he pulled back, panting for air. Instead of stopping Jim took the opportunity to move his way down the blonde’s neck, alternating between painful bites and soothing kisses. “Boss,” Sebastian groaned, trying to get his attention.

Jim hummed against his neck, continuing his ministrations. “Stop,” Sebastian gasped as one of Jim hands snaked around to grab his ass. The brunette ignored him, grinding himself against his sniper’s growing cock. For a second Sebastian let his head fall back, eyes closing in pleasure. God he wanted this, but not this way.

“Fuck!” he groaned. “Stop!” This time the larger man pushed his boss back, breaking all contact.

“What the hell Bastian?” Jim asked, his voice deep and husky as he tried to close the distance between them again.

Sebastian placed a firm hand on his chest, keeping him at arm’s length. “I’m not just one of your whores. I refuse to be this week’s stress relief toy.”

Jim glared at his employee, not accustomed to being refused. “Fuck you Moran,” he spat before storming away.

Sebastian sank back against the counter, defeated. His cock was aching against his trousers and he was sure to have marks along his neck to remind him of this encounter for days. His shirt was ruined and as he took a deep breath he winced; his stomach was sure to bruise. The door to his employer’s room closed with a slam and the click of the lock echoed through the flat.

He eased himself up and made his way over to the stove. With a sigh he turned the burner off; the dish was burnt beyond repair. Frustrated he dropped the pan into the sink, Jim’s rules be damned. He made his way down to the second garage that had been converted into a weight room. An hour with his punching bag would do wonders he thought. His boss wasn’t the only one who needed some stress release.


End file.
